


Pandora

by neatomosquito



Series: The Winter Children [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Case Fic, Cursed Object, Family, Girls with Guns, Guns, Hunters, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, OC's - Freeform, Pandora - Freeform, Siblings, Sisters, brother and two sisters, female oc - Freeform, older protective sisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neatomosquito/pseuds/neatomosquito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of 'The Vigilante', the Winter's jet to Bobby's to regroup and fix their piece-of-crap car. Hugh stumbles across a case a few towns over, and the three suit up and prepare to investigate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pandora

* * *

_Singer's Salvage Yard_

_Sioux Falls, South Dakota_

_5th November, 2005_

* * *

 

Their second childhood home, the one they moved to when Rick adopted them was sort of their home base. It was located in eastern Washington State, which meant that most of the time, it was too far out of the way to really be of any use. Bobby was happy to have them, as he was with most hunters who weren't homicidal maniacs, which, knowing Hunters as a whole, excluded more people than you'd think. Bobby and Rick had been relatively close, them and Rufus sometimes taking cases together, but most of the time they kept it purely business. When Rick was called away to Hunt, he'd drive all the way to South Dakota to leave them with someone he trusted.

So when they realised that fixing the roof was going to cost more than they'd planned at the mechanics that sat outside the town they'd been passing through, they gunned it for Singer's Salvage Yard.

May eased on the accelerator as they edged into the yard, creeping through the haphazard and yet strangely organised rows of Bobby's cover business. They'd called when they'd topped up the gas that they needed to visit, and he'd warned them that they might have to commit a few crimes, impersonating FBI Superiors and such. Hugh assured him that that sort of felony was an everyday sort of thing, and that he'd even practise his welsh accent for it.

You could almost hear the eye roll when the phone was abruptly ended.

Bobby walked out when he heard them driving through the yard. "Hello, Girls and Hugh." Then he noticed the state of the car. He raised his eyebrows. "Nice to know this is just a social visit."

"Hey, Bobby," May greeted, kissing him on the cheek when she had extracted herself from the car.

Liz followed suit. She laughed. "Yeah, there was this ghost thing. It's actually a really funny story if you'd care to hear it."

Hugh grinned as he shook Bobby's hand. "I know, right? Ghosts. _So_ hilarious."

Lizzy glared.

Bobby gestured to the door. "Well, c'mon in. We haven't got forever."

"Yeah, someone else might decide to pop in, and then someone'll have to sleep on the couch," Hugh commented, the four walking into Bobby's kitchen.

Liz made a face. "Ugh. The lumpy one?"

"Hey! That couch is old enough to be your father, a little respect, if ya please," Bobby said, walking the fine line between joke and seriousness.

"So, you get any further with the translation?" Liz asked, dumping her bag on the floor and moving into the study, where the book lay open on his desk, next to a half full bottle of cheap whiskey.

Bobby shook his head, sighing, the mood dropping. "I sent it off to everyone. Ellen Harvelle, Ash, Pamela Barnes, even Frank Devereaux."

"Who's Frank Devereaux?" May asked, frowning, looking up from the random symbols next to the writing in the book.

Bobby shrugged. "Good with computers. Helped him out once. He sorta owes me a few."

Hugh shook his head in admiration. "You sure know the right people to save."

Bobby just sort of smirked, except Bobby would never smirk, so it was sort of the look you'd imagine following 'The Rat who scored the cheese', except with less Rats and more gruff Hunters in baseball caps.

"So, uh, do you think you could help me out with the car?" Liz asked.

"Well, you came to the right place," Bobby sighed, sitting back on his chair behind the desk. Then he frowned. "Hey, speakin' of cars, you three heard from the Winchesters lately?"

May frowned. "Uh, Dean called a few weeks ago, just to check up. He and John were near Rick's place in Washington, wanted to know whether they could use the house."

Bobby frowned. "Hm. Well, sorry to bother ya, but something just ain't feelin' right. I'd have sent the Latin off to John as well, but, well..."

"The Shotgun Incident?" Hugh guessed.

The corner of Bobby's mouth twitched. "Yeah. Somethin' like that."

"I'll have another look at the Latin tonight," Liz said. "I'm sure that someone must be close."

"It don't help when whatever dumbass wrote the thing doesn't understand the concept of Perfect Passive Participles," Bobby said, shaking his head.

Liz winced and nodded in agreement.

May and Hugh shared a look.

Bobby sighed and gestured that they should take a seat. "I'll help with your car, but first you gotta let me add to my already infinite knowledge. Whatcha been doin' lately anyhow?"

"Well, there was this ghost that tried to kill me," May said, nonchalant.

"Yeah," Bobby said. "Thanks for that new and excitin' piece of info. Ghosts try to kill people. Someone write that down."

May frowned.

Hugh and Liz grinned.

This was going to be an awesome week-or-so.

 

* * *

"Chuck over the wrench," Bobby called from the other side of the car. Liz picked it out from the tool box and sent it spinning under the car. There was a grunt as he caught it. "Thanks!"

The doors were open, inviting in the late afternoon air. Music from the radio poured out, less of Liz's taste, and more of Hugh and May's. The sort of slow, sad, hard to understand old Rock. But Bobby liked it better than what Liz listened to, which was more indie, a style May claimed made her want to fall asleep.

Liz tried telling her to listen to the lyrics, but Hugh was laughing too loudly.

Bobby had found a few other things wrong with the car, and was shuffling around, fixing the little leaks that could potentially start and explosion, or the slightly loose nuts that could perhaps lead to the loss of a working brake pedal. Liz had thought they were pretty important, but Bobby seemed pretty relaxed about the idea.

She herself was working on the roof. The tarp that they'd sealed over it lay at her feet as the stretched over, trying to slam the roof back into its original shape. She'd always been the Car Person of their family. May might do the most driving, but whenever they ended up on the side of the road, it was Liz who'd pop the lid and start working on the engine.

"Hey," May hailed as she walked out to them, nursing three beers. She passed one to Liz and another to Bobby. "How's it going?"

"Slow and painful," Liz answered, pressing her hands to her back and sighing. 

"Huh," May said, glancing over the car. Bobby had opened his beer and swallowed a mouthful. "Need any help?"

Liz tried not to sound ungrateful. "Uh, well, May, see the thing is, you really suck at fixing cars."

"Your sisters right," Bobby added. "Remember that time in Califo─"

"Yes, yes, I remember," May interjected, her face going red. "Right, so I'll just stand here and entertain you with my lack of expertise."

"Aw, you're not that bad," Bobby consoled her. "I mean, Hugh's worse."

"Someone say my name?" Hugh asked, walking over, his beer almost gone.

Bobby sighed. "It's a freakin' _festival_ out here."

May rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Hugh. Let's raid the video cabinet and try and watch something made this century."

Bobby looked over at Liz and winked. Liz was relieved. She felt like this was one of the few times she didn't have to deal with May being generally better than her or Hugh being a lot funnier. She had this thing she could share with Bobby, this connection that neither of them would ever be able to understand.

"We'd need divine intervention," Hugh muttered as they walked back up to the house.

Liz grinned to herself.

"You're lucky, you know," Bobby told her after a brief silence, the only noise the flapping of tarps around the yard, drips of oil leaking from the surrounding cars and the steel against steel of Bobby's tools against their Falcon. 

Liz frowned in confusion.

"To have them," Bobby nodded to where May and Hugh had once stood.

Liz smiled humourlessly. "What? Annoying someone to death is a positive thing these days?"

Bobby chuckled. "Eh, well. There is that. But they're good to you, Lizzy. Clearer than the light of day that they love you."

Liz shuffled, a little uncomfortable; with the heart to heart or the idea that she was loved, she wasn't sure. "Yeah." She cleared her throat, her initial word coming out low and scratchy. "Yeah, I know."

"Well, we gotta get you three back out there," Bobby sighed, bending over again to tackle the opened hood of the car. "Savin' people, doin' what you do best."

Liz smiled a little. A sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. "Killing things. My favourite."

Bobby looked up, gave her a look and bent down back to his work.

Grinning to herself, Liz took a swig of her beer and started again on the car roof.

* * *

Things were looking up for May Winter. She'd survived another Ghost attack, she'd beaten Hugh three times to his one in Checkers and she'd borrowed Bobby's car to drive into town with Hugh and Liz and they'd bought a laptop, finally. Liz and Bobby were nearly finished on the car (she wasn't going to lie, it being irreparable and buying something with style wouldn't have been all that bad, but having a car at all was a good thing) and she'd managed to get the number of a very good looking guy from a pub in Sioux Falls.

That is, until her phone rang on the third morning of them staying with Bobby.

Her stomach dropped when she read the caller ID. She flipped open her phone. "Sam?"

" _Hey, May_ ," he said, even over the phone she could read his unease.

"So, uh, how've you been?" she asked, perplexed. The last time she'd _officially_ seen Sam was on her 21st birthday. They'd met up with Dean and Sam in LA to solve this demon thing. He'd seemed unhappy, and all that sourness made sense when Dean called, resigned and near emotionless a few months later with the news that Sam had left the life and moved to study at Stanford.

Of course, there had been that time, tired and emotionally and probably a little hormonal, that she'd left Hugh and Lizzy somewhere safe and had driven to California. Stanford had been a large university, and there were loads of people named 'Sam' who had lived in its general vicinity, but she'd found him in the end.

" _Uh, good, yeah, I s'pose_ ," he said, coughing uncomfortably. " _Anyway. So I...uh, we─_ "

"Who's we?" May asked, surprised. "Is Dean and John there?"

" _Well, that's sort of what I'm calling about_ ─" there was some muttering and some laughter in the background. May could hear the frown in Sam's voice when he said, " _Dean, shut up! Sorry May, right, so have you heard from our Dad?"_

"John?" May asked. "Uh, no, not recently. The last we heard of him was when he and Dean stayed in our place to sort out some Banshee thing."

This time, when Dean spoke, she could hear it " _Might wanna change the sheets once in a while, Mayzie. Just sayin'."_

"I'll find some time in between saving your sorry ass and digging up graves," May informed him.

Sam was grinning now, she could imagine, and Dean was rolling his eyes. But when Sam spoke, his voice was hard, purposefully nonchalant. " _He's missing._ "

May frowned. She remembered what Bobby had said. "Missing? Are you sure?"

" _Certain_ ," Sam affirmed, tight jaw, determined to stay rigid and professional. " _Well, thanks for your help. If you hear from him, call, ok?_ "

"Yeah, see ya, Sam, Dean," she farewelled, then hung up her phone.

Hugh walked into the kitchen , noting her worried expression and the phone in her hand. "Hey, what happened?"

May looked over. "John Winchester's missing. Dean and Sam are looking for him."

Hugh frowned. "Do they want our help? Because, uh, I think I might have a case."

"No, they just want us to keep our eyes peeled. What's the case?"

Hugh threw down a newspaper and handed her a coffee. "Three women dead in the past three weeks, a few towns over."

"Ok, so, how is this our thing?" May asked, scanning through the article and studying the three pictures if the girls.

"Well, cause of death is unknown─"

"Still not really our thing─"

" _And_..." he interrupted, then frowned. "Uh, I got a freaky vibe."

May arched her eyebrow. "Freaky vibe?"

"Yeah."

"We're going to go around, impersonating Police Officers, because you had a weird feeling."

"Thanks for summarising that."

May shook her head. "No way, are you kidding me?"

"Hey, we've done a lot more for less. Not to mention, the town is literally just a few miles away."

May sighed. "Fine. But I'm driving."

Hugh frowned. "No way. I'm driving."

May frowned. "Uh, no. This is ridiculous. I'm the oldest, I'm driving."

Liz and Bobby walked in, laughing, through the door and into the kitchen.

"...and then, he says to me, he goes, 'So Bobby, I heard that your _sister_ was in town' and gave me, you know, _The Look_ , and I just can't _breathe_ from laughin'─"

Lizzy was bent over in half with laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks. She'd always been a laugh-cryer. Her face was bright red.

May and Hugh looked at each other, looked over at Bobby and Liz, and then back.

"I feel like this was something we should have heard from the start," May commented.

"I agree," Hugh said, grinning though, Liz's laughter infectious.

Bobby and Liz carried on with their conversation, Liz pulling out a beer for her and him. May and Hugh sat patiently. Well, semi-patiently. Ok, they would have liked to be described as sitting patiently, but May's foot was tapping, her eyebrows were scrunched and her eyes darted restlessly from Bobby to Liz. Hugh was fiddling, unclipping and redoing his watch. The Winters were not very good at waiting.

"Hey, guys," May said. "Yeah, hi, I exist, so that might be something new."

"Hey, May," Liz said, rolling her eyes at May's tone. She slid into the seat opposite. "Is there something you have to tell us, or are you 'sick of drama'?"

May glared. "Well, first off, I said that once, and I was 12 at the time."

Hugh was grinning. "Entirely excusable."

Bobby sighed and took a long swig of his beer.

"Shut up, Hugh. Anyway, we found a case."

Liz's interest perked. "Really? Where?"

"A few towns over," Hugh said, handing over the newspaper. The sun shining through the window caught the white and stung Liz's eyes, but she squinted and pulled it out of the way. "Three women dead in the past week."

Liz could already feel the tiredness this was going to cost her. Pre-emptive Exhaustion. Was that a thing? She felt like that was a thing. Phantom Limb Syndrome was a thing, after all. Practically everything was a Thing these days.

"The Police are baffled by recent events that have shook the small community to its core," she read aloud. "All three of the women deceased, friends who worked at the local hairdresser were all found dead over the past week with no obvious sign of what could have caused it. Professionals are suggesting Organ Failure, but the pattern of the deaths and the localised clique wonders the question─" Liz frowned at the paper."─ is that even a phrase? I hate small town Newspapers." May rolled her eyes and Liz continued. "...is it a series of nasty coincidences, or a string of horrific crimes?"

"Could be hex," Bobby suggested, after Liz had sighed and passed the article his way. "Some witches spell."

"Yeah, I was thinking that, but don't they usually leave some sort of mark, like, I don't know, but their victims never just...die, right?" Hugh struggled.

"Beautifully put," May muttered.

"Ok, Edgar Ellen Poe, what do you think it is then?" Liz asked.

Hugh shrugged. "If I knew, I would have said something."

Liz pondered this. "Well, not necessarily. You might be one of those people who enjoy creating suspense."

"You've known me your whole life. When have I ever done that?"

"Yesterday."

"...give another example. Besides, I'd just finished an episode of Who Wants to be a Millionaire at that stage."

"When we were hunting that Bunyip in Australia."

"We've never even been to _Canada_."

"Oh. That must've been a dream."

May rolled her eyes and chugged her coffee. Bobby sighed and took a long, drawn drink of his beer. It was a little early for the strong stuff, but after all these years, and his accumulative taste for the stronger stuff beer didn't really count. Anything less than whiskey to be really worth his time. Beer didn't make you forget. It just slowed down your reflexes and meant that if you got pulled over after drinking a few, you could get booked.

But honestly, if he hadn't been there already from Karen's death, these kids would have pushed him to the drink.

"So, back to more pressing matters," May interrupted Liz and Hugh, who were still talking about nothing. "Bobby, do you have a car we could borrow?"

Bobby gave her a look. "I live in a Salvage Yard, idjit."

 

* * *

_ Williamsville _

_ South Dakota _

_ 11th November, 2005 _

* * *

 

The town the siblings were investigating wasn't large enough to have a concentrated police force, so the Police of Sioux Falls extended themselves over to that area. Williamsville, South Dakota was a happy community, with a length of main street and then a few that built off from it. A service station hailed the entry to the town and a baseball and football field hybrid stretched along the side of the road as you drove up through to the main part of the town. Houses dotted around the outskirts of the main part of town, mostly large, old houses that had either been restored or rebuilt sometime in the last hundred years. There was a hairdresser, though, one of the small, boutique style that always seem to pop up and then inevitably crash a few months later. A diner stood opposite that, and then your usual collection of bakery's and photography stores took up the rest of the space.

"Can I live here?" May pleaded, absently scratching on her skirt that was itching into her skin and looking wistfully at the little chocolate shop that was sea-gulled with people, grinning and laughing.

"You can live here until the case is solved," Hugh told her.

"No way. We're staying at Bobby's."

"Is this because of that movie you watched the other night? The one with the couple who find the dead body in their motel room?"

May glared. "What? No. Shut up."

Liz glanced up, grinned but said nothing.

It was good when they were joking and when they forgot that they were sad. It was the best you could do as with the worse tools and the shittiest materials. Liz didn't mind that it meant forgetting. Forgetting was better than facing, anyway.

May pulled their new car out onto the house of the husband and children of the more recent death, that of Maryse Taylor.

They hurried up to the door. The cold air and grey clouds seemed to scream that winter was coming. They waited after a knock announced their arrival.

The door opened, by a girl who couldn't have been older than seven. "Hello?"

"Hi, we're from the Life Insurance Exec. and Co. Is your dad home?" Liz asked softly.

The little girl looked up, frowning. "Uh...I dunno."

May frowned. "You don't...you don't know?"

The little girl shrugged. "He could be, I _dunno_!"

Liz frowned and glanced at her siblings. What? 

May shifted next to her and Liz could almost feel her impatience rolling off her body in waves of heat.

"Well, uh, if he is home, could you tell him that we're here to see him?" Hugh pressed.

The little girl shrugged again.

Finally, May sighed and bent her knees so that she was at Miss Taylor's level. "Ok kid, so here's the deal. We're actually cops. Did you know that? Yeah. That's right. We could arrest you on the spot because of this. It'd go on your permanent record. Do you know what that is?"

The seven year old shook her head fearfully.

"It means you can never get a job. You know what? You might even go to _jail_." May gave her a pointed glance and the girl swallowed.

"My Dad _might_ be home," she allowed shakily. "I'll go check."

The young girl raced off through the house and May straightened up, giving a look to her siblings.

Liz shook her head, bemused. She knew that May had a shorter patience than she, but even that was a bit of an overkill. "Well, when they say that May Winter has a way with children, I'll understand it."

"Well phrased, L," Hugh nodded at her. Liz forced herself not to roll her eyes at 'L'.

May shrugged. "Meh. Whatever. She'll forget about it in a few minutes."

"Well, maybe not. I mean, what if she doesn't _ever_ forget it and then lives in constant fear of getting something on her record?"

May blinked. "That is literally the point of having a Permanent Record."

"You got over that time I told you clowns were actually cannibals," Hugh told her.

Liz frowned. "No, I didn't. I just found out you were right."

"Oh yeah. Shifter. That was a great case."

"I just want to get this one over and done with," May said, sighing. "I'm already sick of it. That last case we took went for way too long."

"It was only a few days," Liz reminded her.

"Yeah, but we had all that 'Oh look Childhood' crap thrown in the middle," Hugh argued.

Liz frowned. "What?"

May turned and gave Hugh another look. "Yeah, what?"

Their brother frowned. "I...I don't know?"

There was a silence.

Liz rolled her shoulders.

May started playing with the brown hair that fell out of her bun. Hugh started clicking a pen in his pocket.

"Ok," Liz burst. "What is taking so long?"

As if summoned by her words, Maryse's husband made his way down the corridor. He held his daughters hand and approached them warily. He looked broken, utterly cracked and stressed and lost.

"Good afternoon," he called to them, forcing a smile. "Won't you come in?"

 

* * *

_ The Taylor Residence, _

_ Williamsville, South Dakota _

_ 11th November, 2005 _

* * *

 

"What can you tell us about your wife, Mr Taylor?" Hugh asked as they all sat down at the dinner table, the young girl who was introduced as Louise huddled around the corner and watched with wide eyes, trying to make sure she caught something before her dad caught her and sent her away.

The man shrugged. "She was a good woman. She loved her kids, had some excellent friends; a real role model."

"Did she..." May inwardly groaned. There was never an easy way to put this. "Did she have anyone who would wish her harm?"

May went through the list and checked things off as Mr Taylor complied with them. Narrowing eyes/mouth pursed in suspicion? Check. Sitting back and eyeing the three of them shrewdly? Check. Expressing his discomfort over the question? Check. Unsubtly asking Liz how old she was? Check. Liz giggling and stumbling over herself as she tried to answer? Double check.

May sighed and fought against the urge to bury her head into her hands.

Hugh swooped in to take some of the attention of her too-young-to-even-be-out-of-college sister. "We apologise for any offence, Mr. Taylor, but the question is very important."

"For Life Insurance?" He asked, disbelieving.

May smiled; practiced, assuring. "If you will allow me to speak so plainly, the situation of your wife's death was very...peculiar. We just need to know everything."

"Isn't this something you could talk to the police about?"

May stifled a bored yawn. You might as well copy and paste the words she and her siblings spoke and situate the other parties lines into some sort of monotonous script. When Rick had told her the exciting and daring life of a Hunter, she'd never quite anticipated all the _talking_ she'd have to do.

"No, sir. The police are disinclined to speak with us on a very private, worrying and ongoing investigation," May mouth moved in time with Liz as her younger sister spoke the words. "We are under the impression that you would like to go through all of this as soon as possible, so as then you and your family might be able to move forward."

Mr. Taylor seemed to have understood that they'd just wasted a full five minutes and sighed, relenting. "Maryse, well, she was a bit of a gossip. She and her friends. They'd meet for coffee and chat away about everyone in this ridiculous town."

Mr. Taylor was staring at his hands, so he didn't notice when Hugh glanced over at May, mouthed 'Bingo' and grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

"Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Taylor," May said, form, straight, an amiable smile carved around her mouth. "We'll be in touch."

He stood to see them out, but Liz broke in apologetically. "So sorry to bother you, but is there any chance I could use your bathroom?"

 

* * *

_ Singer's Salvage Yard _

_ Sioux Falls, South Dakota _

_ 11th November, 2005 _

* * *

 

Night had fallen when they weren't watching, stealing along the sky, snatching up the sun and transforming blue into black and the white fluffy clouds that had timidly haunted over the expanse since morning to glittering stars that wept cold, white light softly onto the earth.

The siblings had driven home and taken to charging themselves with pouring over Liz's finding on her 'Toilet' run.

The pictures of the room that Liz had taken, along with the pencil etchings in her notebook of the EMF readings were blown up on Hugh's new computer. The picture was of a normal room, clean and orderly, a collection of make-up and glossy magazines calling Maryse's side of the bed and a collection of fantasy books, a phone charger and tickets to a basketball game hailing her husbands. EMF had been low, but higher than an average phone charger or iPod dock. 

Hugh frowned. "Whatever triggered the EMF had been gone for a while before Liz got there." He flipped the picture and there was the master bedroom from another angle. It was a set of draws, tall and traditional, with a curved woodwork frame arching in a decoration of flowers around a semicircular mirror and a collection of smiling, happy, posed photographs. A flower and a few other things gathered dust and decayed as the time where someone who have them dusted or replaced came and went with the passing of Maryse. Something struck May odd about the Chest of Draws, something other than the impeccable neatness of it all. She frowned but said nothing, allowing Hugh to click on through the rest of the photos downloaded from Liz's phone.

Hugh sighed as the last angle of the bedroom came and went, stretching and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. His shaggy hair fell back over his eyebrows when his arms fell back down and May knew that she'd have to give him a haircut soon. "So, what are we thinking?"

Liz sat down on the end of one of the chairs in Bobby's kitchen. She looked so tired, so small. May wanted to hug her, to reach out to her, all in that instant, to make sure she knew that she was loved, but she pulled back, as she always did, more certain than wary of her sisters aversion to displays of affection. "We know that there was _some_ EMF, so it can't have just been some new poison or disease. Could it have been a ghost who avenged itself?"

"I've never heard of a ghost moving around like that," May said, shaking her head and sinking into another chair. "Unless it was connected to some sort of object."

"Did the victims know each other?" Hugh asked, clicking on the computer screen, trying to look busy.

"It's a small town," Liz mused. "It's likely."

"Well," Hugh said, smartly snapping closed his laptop and stretching, hand musing through his hair. "I think that we'll give them a visit in the morning."

"And we'll need to see the bodies," May murmured.

Liz grimaced.

They three bid each other goodnight, and Hugh and Liz headed off to the bedrooms, May wearily laying her head to rest on the lumpy couch sat in front of the TV.

She was still awake when Bobby came in. She heard him sigh, her eyes were closed and her breathing even, nothing gave away her inability to rest. He walked near her and draped the blanket closer up near her neck, where it was warm from the heat it had gathered from the bottom of her legs.

"G'night May," he muttered, yawning and turning in for the night.

She opened her eyes a few minutes later, peering into the gloom.

She felt like crying, she felt like screaming, praying, begging, singing, shining. Had she been treated gently since she was 8? Since everything crashed around her? Since she was 9 and the very fabric of everything she knew had been torn down?

A tear, as clear and mournful as a dew drop slid down her cheek and onto her pillow.

She did not sleep well that night.

In fact, she did not sleep at all and followed the rigorous torture that had been the nights she'd tossed through over the past year or so.

May was so tired of being exhausted.

 

* * *

_ Barb's Diner, _

_ Williamsville, South Dakota _

_ 12th November, 2005 _

* * *

 

Hugh noticed the bags under his sisters eyes. He noticed her crabby mood and the lost humour. But he didn't say anything, of course he didn't. She would lie, he'd nod at her 'fine' and they'd go on awkward and rusty.

They needed to focus, they needed their whole minds on the case.

Or at least, that's what he told himself.

They planned to arrive at the house of the first victim early in the morning, stepping into the local diner for breakfast before they could make a break for the case.

The bell jangled cheerily as they entered, utter contrast to May's black mood, her sombre suit and the like-wise funeral director-esque dress of her two siblings. Hugh straightened up his tie when he caught sight of the good looking waitress. She smiled at him as they took their seats.

They sat down into a booth. The waitress came over. "Anything I can get you guys?"

"Of course, Kelly," Hugh said, grinning and scanning the waitresses dress for her nametag. "I'll have the eggs and bacon and a coffee. My dear _sisters_ here..."

Liz gave him a look. "I'll just have some toast please."

"Nothing for me, thanks," May said with a polite smile.

Kelly smiled at them and walked away, flashing Hugh a grin before she leant over the counter to hand in their order.

Liz and May were both giving Hugh one of those looks.

One of those, _why hello there Embarrassment of the Family_ looks.

"God forbid the day when men and women can just go to diners as anything other than sex partners," Liz finally said.

"Not everything I do is a direct representation of 'The Dangers of the Future of our Society'," Hugh informed her.

"I think she means," May said. "That it'd be nice if you contradicted it every once and a while."

Hugh knew where this was going. They went here in Boston a year ago, they went here in California when they were hunting that werewolf with Bobby six months ago. He _wasn't_ a bad person. He hated being painted as the villain every time his sisters decided they were too tired to keep anything nasty they thought to themselves. He looked in the mirror and he saw himself, not the Joker, not even Anakin Skywalker and he turned out to be pretty good in the end.

He was tired of it.

"Oh my God, no, I am _not_ going to endure another episode of My Sister's the Shrink," Hugh snapped, glaring.

Liz flinched, but May was unmoved. "Why? Because you know you need it?"

Hugh knew it was a low blow the second after he said it. He knew he was going to regret it, he knew he was going to need to apologise. " _You're_ the broken one. Sleeping well, May?"

May sat up straight, looked her brother in the eye and said nothing, nothing at all. Her face was devoid, her eyes, if anything, calculating.

They remained there in silence, Hugh and Liz eating quickly when their meals were brought over.

Then they walked, still silent, still ignoring everything and making it ten times more obvious at the same time, to the car.

Where they drove off, to the next house.

And it was only then, _only_ after a time of silence, of not facing but ignoring, that Hugh finally apologised.

And Liz began to wonder, when her sister smiled, and forgave him, and it was left as a bad memory, about facing and figuring, and all the things she thought she'd worked out.

* * *

 

_ Singer's Salvage Yard, _

_ Sioux Falls, South Dakota _

_ 12th November, 2005 _

 

* * *

 

"Exactly the same," May sighed to Bobby as they collapsed into his kitchen table again. "An angelic gossip."

Bobby surveyed the siblings carefully, he could see that Liz sat next to May and that Hugh looked like he'd kicked a puppy. He saw the bags under May's eyes and the worry in Liz's and the curves of dread around Hugh's.

He knew he could put everything together if he tried, and if they came to him he'd listen. But he wasn't sure if he wanted them to come to him, he wasn't sure he wanted to go to the effort.

"So, we've found our connection," Hugh said, pulling out his laptop again and pulling up the police files of the three victims. "And it turns out that all their kids went to the same St Lucy's Elementary School in Sioux Falls."

"So far, there are three other children, living in Williamsville who attend the school," Liz said, swallowing a yawn. "But we don't know which one is the...uh, most likely next vic."

"Could it just be the school?" Bobby suggested.

May breathed out heavily. "I certainly hope not."

Hugh sighed and his fingers hurried at the keys as he pulled up Maryse Taylor's myspace page. He trickled through the heartfelt farewell messages, frowning when he hit her latest posts.

"Hey, guys..." he frowned at the picture she'd snapped of herself. She was sitting on the end of her bed, showing off a new hairdo. Behind her the old set of draws sat, it's mirror gleaming back the reflection of her laptop screen. "Is this..."

May leant over his shoulder and frowned at the picture. "Hey...bring up the other photo."

Hugh brought the other picture up and they surveyed the two different pictures. It didn't take long for Bobby to see the difference. "There." he pointed at the screen. "The box. It's not in both pictures. Jewellery?"

Liz was biting her lip. "No...I don't think so. It's sorta...small, isn't it?"

"Well, let's not get too ahead of ourselves," Bobby said, frowning. "The Husband coulda just chucked the box after his wife kicked it."

"That room was...untouched," Liz said, shaking her head. "He'd left everything as if his wife was just about to walk back in."

"Second Stage," May nodded.

"What?"

"Second Stage of Grief. God, bunch of apes."

"I'm callin' it," Bobby sighed, walking over to the fridge and pulling out four beers. "Cursed object."

"Does it just...appear and disappear?" May wondered.

"Drawn to people who stick their noses in other people's business," Hugh agreed grimly.

Bobby handed them the bottles and they all took a drink.

"Cursed objects, man," Liz shivered. "I hate those things."

 

* * *

 

_ The Taylor Residence, _

_ Williamsville, South Dakota _

_ 13th November, 2005 _

 

* * *

 

"I still don't get it," May sighed as they made their way up to the first victims house again, scuffing her heel on the ground. "What has any of this to do with the fact that their children go to the school?"

"Maybe the box is connected in some way," Liz suggested. "Like whatever hears them gossiping is at the school."

"And the restricted domain?" Hugh asked.

"Big words," May muttered.

Hugh grimaced but said nothing.

"Uh," Liz said. "Maybe it can only go so far."

"But then how did it get here in the first place?" May pressed.

Liz shrugged. "Any new people in the area?"

"No new residents as of three years ago," May said. "Two instances of people leaving though."

"I mean, this town doesn't even have a motel."

"Maybe we're about to find something out," May said, only slightly hopeful as she raised her knuckles to the door and knocked.


End file.
